Everything had changed after the Tyrant’s incursion. No longer were the trees strong and covered with leaves of emerald green. The shrouds of life that once draped ancient oaks and supple pines were all but extinguished. For decades Telariel had passed under naked branches of dead wood. She weaved through the Elderwood with catlike grace, her leather boots crushing brittle leaves beneath her light steps. Their subtle snaps echoed in the tomb-like forest wherever she walked. She was an elven shadow sneaking through her forgotten homeland, bow slung across her back. Long had the forest been a silent cadaver with only her footfalls to keep her company. She paid it little mind. The ranger moved through the wood with haste. Her ash grey cloak billowed out behind her and her leather armor pulled taut as she ran. The brown leggings and worn cuirass hugged her body close. She kept the hood of her cloak up to mask her dandelion hair, and took in the surroundings as she ran. Her brilliant green eyes had grown numb to the dull pallor of the destroyed land long ago. All around lay dead trees and broken branches, their bark supernaturally dark and leaking rotten sap that glistened under the autumn sunlight. Nowhere had the leaves begun to change. The warm oranges, reds, and yellows of the season now lost to Tectelekei’s corruption. At the touch of his influence they had all, but disappeared and those that remained were a sickly black like the trees they loosely covered. His presence was a poison and it continued to choke the life from her home. She pulled her mind from the toxin that coursed through the wood and turned her eyes to the trail of her prey. It had been only a couple of hours since she had spotted the monster’s tracks but it left a clear path for her to follow. Large, oversized footprints marked her quarry as an ogre, but it was easy to discern her enemy by the rampant destruction it left in its wake. Shattered trees littered her path, and tainted sap oozed from massive holes left in the thickest trees like open wounds left gaping. It was not just the land that had been spoiled by the taint of the Tyrant’s undead host. Many creatures that had served him had been left to scavenge and wander through the corrupted forest. Here they had become like the flowers and trees, their bodies infected with dark magic and left to rot amongst the corpse of a once fervent land. Yet these beasts of war would not die. They only grew stronger and more aggressive from their master’s poison. Left unchecked they continued the cycle of destruction Tectelekei had started before his army’s expulsion. She hunted them now in hopes that their eradication would be enough until the forest could truly heal itself. If she could not cure the sickness that crippled her land she would at least pacify its symptoms. Telariel followed the trail of wreckage and entered a small wooded grove. A shallow pond sat in the center with a circle of emaciated trees scattered about. She made her way to the water and looked around for the creature. Its footprints criss-crossed over the grassless soil, the ground bereft of both flower and weed. She desperately tried to locate the ogre. Her hooded head darted back and forth between each standing tree trying to spy its massive form. Perhaps she had assumed its course inaccurately. When the elf turned to start the chase anew her eyes fell back to the pool. A form caught her eye and pulled her toward the water. A deer covered in moss and stained with dark ichor bobbed in the shallow pond. Her eyes stared up towards her cream colored face from the murky depths, but the body of the animal quickly stole her gaze. Most of its flesh had been eaten away by time and decay. In the skin that remained lay evidence of the Tyrant’s touch. Black veins far too common to the creatures of the present Elderwood snaked across the corpse’s pale skin. Dark magic had taken root in the land when Tectelekei’s undead servants fell beneath the blades of her people. As his horde’s blood soaked into the once rich soil it grew tainted and each new enemy they defeated only furthered the corruption of the elven realm. The deer’s vacant eyes looked back into hers, the silence of its stare almost audible. She knelt before the creature in the desolate grove. Her mind, so often filled with instinct and survival, had gone far away at the sight of its body. Memories from a time veiled by heartache assaulted her. Thoughts of deer running through green grass and darting between trees as high as mountaintops flashed in her mind. Stolen kisses on moonlit nights under canopies of sage green leaves, of dancing under golden skies with music forever lost. A nightmare of walking skeletons and living shadows that erased the sound and beauty she had cherished. She thought of the people, her people, who had abandoned their home for an ancient, forgotten plane. She felt heat behind her eyes as salt water rimmed the milky lids. Tears flowed down her ivory cheeks, and betrayed the placid expression she tried to force across her face. A century was a long time, but not long enough to forget. Not long enough for her. The ranger sat lost in thought for only a moment. Her sadness was abruptly silenced by the crash of snapping branches in the distance. Her mind lurched from nightmare memories to the impending danger of the present, the tears along her face forgotten. She sprang to her feet and dashed behind a thick cedar. With a smooth arc she drew her bow, and positioned herself. The rough texture of the yew weapon felt comforting in her grip. She notched two arrows simultaneously and peered out from her hiding place. The red fletching of the missile threatened to steal her eye from the target. Its vibrant color called for her attention against the perpetual darkness. Her eyes remained glued to her target, however, unable to look away from the miserable, ugly beast. The ogre plowed through the scattered trees and rushed into the grove. It sent wood splintering through the air and looked around frantically for the woman. Her prey was fast becoming the predator. Telariel kept silent and stared at the creature. Its sudden jerks were too quick and kept it from spotting her cloaked figure. Its flesh marked it as infected. An unhealthy pale white covered in thick black veins. The monster was too far gone. Dark blotches covered its body and murky, black puss oozed from bulbous sores. It was no better than a walking corpse and she would see it set to the torch. She drew her bow string back across her chest and watched the beast closely while it stomped around the closed off wood. His size would be a challenge. The ogre’s giant heritage caused it to tower over the tall elf. She drew the string taut under her chin and scanned its body for vulnerabilities. Its blistered skin was brawny and thick, and pulled tight across its large frame. It ran a bruised tongue along boar-like tusks, the sharp teeth jutting from bulbous lips covered in dark ichor. A wave of revulsion washed over her skin at the sight, but her gaze held firm. Its eyes, vacant pools of black covered by strands of thin greasy hair, were set above a large boar-like snout. The ogre shuffled through the pool and sniffed the air, attracted by the scent of the living ranger. Her eyes drifted to the ogre’s weapon. Little more than a fallen tree, the beast had turned into a makeshift club. It dragged the mace behind stocky legs in a boulder sized fist, the knuckles nearly touching the ground. She turned from her prey once its eyes shifted towards her, its tattered loincloth the last detail she saw. The ogre trampled towards her. The sound of splashing water and splintered logs under its feet rang in the ranger’s ears. Telariel closed her eyes, blocked out the sound of its lumbering steps, and breathed deep. Her steady heartbeat was a quiet contrast to the thundering footfalls of her enemy. She whispered to herself, the words lost to the cacophony of the rampaging ogre. “Ceratel, guide my hand.” She turned out from her shelter and lifted her bow to her side. “Ceratel, keep Bria safe.” Her eyes opened to meet her opponent, the slathering beast set to roaring at the sight of its new meal. “Ceratel, turn me to ash.” The words soared alongside the loosed arrows. The bow’s thrum echoed in her ear as she watched the crimson fletched missiles penetrate the giant’s body. “If I fall, my lord, make a fire from my bones and cleanse this desecrated wood.” Telariel stepped further from her temporary defense and loosed a volley of three more arrows. Her nimble fingers plucked ammunition from her quiver with practiced efficiency. They pierced the slimy flesh to sit beside the others. A smattering of sticks now sat lodged in the brute’s ample chest. Deep charcoal fluid flowed from the new wounds, but the ogre fell upon her undeterred. It brought its massive club over its shoulder and swung the weapon in a ferocious sideways arc. The blow shattered her hiding place like hollow bone. Its true mark, however, was unharmed. Telariel fell into a roll beneath the powerful attack, shards of bark falling across her cloaked back, and came up in a crouch. Telariel’s long golden hair hung over her left eye, hood fallen off behind her. The rest of it was held tight in an unobtrusive tail. Though it obscured her vision it was of little consequence to her keen sight and practiced aim. She notched her bow, now held across her chest, and fired a stream of arrows into the creature’s powerful legs. Her delicately pointed ears pulsed with the ogre’s painful howls. More filthy blood poured from its flesh but it renewed its charge enraged. She continued to fire. Her arm was a blur as she plucked arrow after arrow from her quiver. The ogre gripped the massive tree with both hands and brought it down upon the ranger like a blacksmith striking heated steal. Under a mighty roar he aimed to crush the elf with one quick blow. Carried with an acrobat’s skill Telariel rolled away from the attack. She came to her feet and notched another arrow, a clear shot at the beast’s unprotected eyes. Yet, when the mace struck the ground, a shock ran through the grove and caused her to fire wide. Her feet failed her at the abrupt force and she stumbled. The ogre took a hand from his weapon and seized the elf in its massive palm, fingers smearing blood and muck across her body. Unable to compete with the ogre’s strength it lifted her upwards, bow left clattering to the ground. Telariel struggled to free herself from the ogre’s grasp, overcome by the smell of the creature. The blood that oozed from its body reeked of tar and feces; its breath little better. Its lips dripped with grimy spittle and she searched for escape as it pulled her closer to its open maw. Frantically she reached for the dagger strapped to her boot. Her body convulsed with fright as she twisted and pushed against the creature’s iron grip. Slender fingers stretched desperately to find the concealed weapon. With the ogre’s hot, rancid breath against her face, she felt her fingers brush the smooth wooden handle. She pulled it into her palm and, gripping the dagger with desperate intensity, sank it into the creature’s wrist. The curved blade tore through its skin and muscle, the ogre yelping at the sudden pain. The sizzle of burning skin quickly filled her ears as the hidden magic of the dagger erupted in the monster’s veins. It threw her from its grasp and she bounced across the pond. Her body throbbed with pain as she struck a standing log along her rolling path. She could smell the burnt flesh of the ogre’s arm once she skidded to a stop. She struggled to rise, her head a pounding mass of agony. Telariel rose from her brief resting place, and saw the creature licking the fresh wound. A shard of pity lodged itself next to the aches and nausea running through her body, the ogre reminiscent of an injured bear in her mind’s eye. When it turned to look at her and bellowed a renewed war cry the sliver of compassion was suddenly plucked out. She gripped her dagger, blade running across the back of her arm, and hurried to find a plan of action. The ogre stood beside the pond before it charged towards the elf, and hurled the deer from its path. Its extended reach and bulky fist swatted the animal away with little effort. She heard the brittle bones snap like dried wood when it struck a standing oak. Her eyes followed the limp body to the ground. Telariel tightened her grip around the hilt and eyed the beast, her clenched teeth hidden behind a mask of staggered breaths. Emerald eyes set ablaze she hurled herself towards her foe, body shaking with fury. An unshackled scream clashed with the howl of the monster, a torrent of unbridled rage. She ran towards the ogre like a hungry animal. Bloodlust fueled her every step. The ogre struck out, its arm swiping the club out to bat her aside. Telariel ducked beneath the blow and jumped up the body of the beast, wind from the passing mace tickling her neck. She pushed off his gut and gripped his left tusk. Her fingers fought to hold the slippery protrusion. Once she found purchase she pulled herself up with her left hand, dagger glowing red in her right. Muscles taut she lifted herself to the ogre’s eyes and brought her dagger high in hand. Telariel forced the fiery metal through one of the monster’s black orbs, and a beastial wail echoed throughout the grove. She drove the weapon deeper into the beast’s skull, the stench of burning flesh renewed. Her enraged cry fought for dominance over the ogre’s agonized shriek. In its pain the monster dropped its weapon, but grabbed its attacker and hurled her across the battleground. She slammed into a sturdy tree with a grunt, and her body slumped to the ground. Hands to her side Telariel tried to stand, but her efforts were denied as a sharp pain shot through her ribcage. She pressed a finger along the bones and felt where two had broken. The ranger knelt and cursed her luck, but the ogre’s cries drew her attention. It reached desperately for the dagger embedded in its eye socket, broad fingers unable to pry the small piece of metal from its burning skull. In its anguish it spotted the ranger and charged again. Desperation flooded her. Telariel looked around for her bow and spotted it a few feet away, but the curved weapon brought her little comfort. She scooped up two arrows that had fallen unscathed from her quiver and crawled across the dead soil. Pain coursed through her body as she moved. The crashing footfalls of the giant enveloped the small grove. Her hand gripped the rough bow and she pulled it close. She notched two arrows and took aim, fingers unsteady and breath ragged. Blood trickled down her nose. An adrenaline numbed gash above her head began to throb, and her vision blurred. Arms outstretched, the ogre’s face contorted with rage. It bellowed at the elf, its blackened tongue and teeth exposed in its open maw. With a deep breath her fingers steadied. The string snapped back and forth as the arrows sprang from the tense bowstring. She watched the projectiles burrow through the ogre’s fleshy mouth and pierce the skull behind; a spray of grey and black juice punctuating the beast’s demise. Momentum carried it forward. The ogre’s body fell over itself in mid-stride and it crashed to the ground a hand’s breadth in front of the battered elf.

⚜

Telariel swung her bow across her back with a sigh. The constant ache from her strained muscles forced a grimace across her lips. She braced her ribs with her right hand and moved about the battlefield picking up fallen arrows before plucking her dagger from the ogre’s charred eye socket. The dead flesh continued to sizzle, the hissing and popping of melting skin drowned out by the discordant notes of pain singing throughout her body. She sheathed her blade, eyes lingering on the corpse. A toxic cesspool gathered around the fallen creature, its blood a poison on the floor of her forest home. She reached into a belt pouch and pulled free flint and tinder. Unable to trust the branches of infected trees she tore a piece of cloth from her grey cloak. The fabric caught a spark and was quickly ablaze. She set it atop the dead beast and the fire lapped greedily at the body of the wretched monster. The flesh was slow to burn but it produced an intensely foul odor when it did. More sizzling echoed throughout the grove while Telariel watched the ogre’s body turn to ash. Her nostrils filled with the acrid smell of burning feces and tar. She stood beside the beast unmoving, green eyes dazzling in the firelight. The ranger moved to exit the grove as the fire began to die, her stride less wide than when she entered but no less passionate. Crossing the pond her eyes fell to the deer once again, its corpse now twisted at the base of a standing oak. She paused then moved towards it. With a groan she unclasped her tattered cloak and placed it over the animal. Telariel set the body alight and turned away to let the fire burn. “Ceratel, turn me to ash,” she whispered, her bruised legs carrying her across a dark and withered wood with no color but a fiery red left to burn out in her wake. “Make a fire from my bones and cleanse me of this pain.” Winding through blackened trees she left the grove behind, smoke rising above the leafless wood and corrupted soil. This was her home. Nothing would change that.

About the Author: Travis G.G. Anderson is a writer, photographer, blogger, and all around procrastinator. A polite, if sarcastic, Canadian, Mr. Anderson lives in Kelowna, BC with his beautiful wife Grace where he continues to pursue the dream of all small town kids turned writers: publishing a best-selling novel. If you’d like to know more about this devilishly handsome Canuck, check out his blog at: tgganderson.wordpress.com and follow him on twitter at: @tgganderson.